The Interview
by hopelessswriter
Summary: An interview with the DWMA's favorite duo goes a little sideways. SoMa if you want, a little language.


Soul _tched_ under his breath as the interviewer sat down across from them, and Maka elbowed him quickly. She wasn't thrilled about this interview either, but it was a part of the job. Lord Death had to keep the world informed about the DWMA's control of Kishin outbreaks, and as the last Deathscythe, Soul was a bit of a celebrity among both meisters and civilians. Which meant he was the new go-to for these little info sessions.

It annoyed both of them more than they let on. Maka had listened to Soul's rant in the living room for over an hour the night before.

The interviewer sat across from them, the camera set up right next to him. "Hi, you two. I'm Mark, and this is Gwen behind the camera." The pretty blonde girl put up a hand in greeting, her eyes glancing up at Maka before they darted to Soul—and stayed there. Maka fought down the familiar eye roll at the obvious stare, and she felt Soul flick her hand under the table. She bit her lip to avoid a smile.

"How familiar with interviews are you two?" Mark asked, not looking up at them. Maka felt her cheeks flush; she had never been questioned at all about her line of work, preferring to be in the field and shy away from the cameras as much as she could. She hated attention, which was why she abhorred the prospect of the interview more than anything else.

She told as much to Mark. "I've never done one, honestly. I typically do missions instead of—"

"Okay, no worries. Soul?" Mark cut her off, eyes flitting up to Soul as a question. Maka saw Soul bristle at his dismissal of Maka, and she grabbed his hand before he could put Mark in his place. Maka wanted out of here, minor disrespect or no.

Soul sighed, squeezing her hand briefly. "Yeah, I've done interviews before. So I know all of your shitty tricks. You treat either of us like a story and we have a problem." Mark finally looked up, locking eyes with Soul. Maka glanced up and saw Soul had bared his teeth slightly, his red eyes steady on Mark's blue ones. After a second Mark nodded, and Soul nodded back.

"Fair enough. Now, are we ready to begin?" Maka nodded, and she heard the camera start to roll. "So, Soul Eater, as a Deathscythe, how would you say the control of Kishin outbreaks is being maintained across the world?"

Soul hummed next to her, and Maka was amazed at how at ease he was. She hadn't even been asked a question and she was sweating. "We have teams stationed in every country, concentrated in heavily populated areas, from one to three star meisters and weapons. The Deathscythes are spread out in every continent, with the exception of Antarctica for obvious reasons, on Lord Death's express orders. If things get out of hand, a meister and weapon can be sent to that location in a matter of hours. So all in all, things are pretty well managed."

Mark whistled. "That's a lot of monitoring. Are citizens in any danger from these teams stationed across the world?"

Maka and Soul froze. "Are you asking if any of our teams will attack citizens?" Maka asked, her anger vanquishing her fear of the spotlight.

"No, no, nothing so barbaric. I know all of your teams are well-equipped and well-trained to handle Kishin. But, you mentioned that they are mainly stationed in heavily populated areas. There had to have been situations when citizens have been hurt, and I feel the people should know what to do if they encounter one of your teams."

Maka's heart rate slowed, but Soul was still stiff in his chair. "No, people don't regularly get hurt during high-risk situations. After all, who would stupid enough to mess with a living weapon and someone trained to wield it?" Maka stiffened in her chair as she picked up on the undercut in Soul's statement. Soul was relaxed now, leaned back with his arms crossed, but it was obvious Mark got the message. He swallowed and looked back down at his notebook.

"Good point, good point. Moving on then." He skimmed his page briefly before looking back up. "In regards of joining the DWMA, it must be hard. Yet I know that people everywhere have the ambition of joining the DWMA and getting a weapon or meister of their own." He turned slightly to face Maka, and she felt her heart jump in preparation. "What is it like, being a minority in your line of work?"

Maka choked on her response. How did this interview go from being about the security of the world to what it was like to be a female meister? She remembered Soul's argument from last night. _"The media takes a single word and spins it into a whole new line of questioning. We won't get to say anything Kid wants us to._ Maka realized that he was right.

Maka swallowed, readying her useless ambassador drivel she told first year NOT students, but Soul's voice cut her off. "Honestly, Mark, it can be a bit of a hassle, let me tell you. Really." Maka wiped her nose to hide the smile that had broken out across her face. Mark looked affronted that Soul was answering his question. "First, I was classified as just a Demon _Weapon_, which was fine. Like, okay, I'm the only scythe. That's fine. Luckily, I got the best scythe meister at the banquet." Maka blushed. "And she didn't have to switch training styles. So I was glad to help for that. But the looks you get when you introduce yourself as a scythe? Some meisters, those new age ones who want a sword or a freaking pistol? The discrimination is offensive."

Maka couldn't keep in the snort at Soul's answer. His experience with both making people uncomfortable and handling nosy media was easy to see. He had Mark hooked on his words yet embarrassed at the obvious derailment of his question. "But when I became a Death_scythe_, I thought I'd made it back to the normal side of it. But no! Turns out, I'm only one of _two_ actual scythe-type Deathscythes. Do you know how many Deathscythes there are total?" Mark shook his head mutely. "Eight! And I'm only one of two scythes. One is a hammer, for Death's sake. But I've gotten used to it, and civilians honestly don't know what the ratio of scythes to— Oh shit, I just realized that question was for Maka. My bad," he hissed, fake sincerity written across his face.

Mark looked trapped, but his face hardened at Soul's cocky smile. "No, no, honestly it was much more interesting than my original line of questioning anyway. Thank you, Deathscythe." His eyes flicked to his paper, and Gwen's hand went up. _Ten minutes._ Maka breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, Mark, is there anything else the people need to know about the Kishin situation from the DWMA?" Soul asked, clearly trying to put the interview back on track. Maka's heart swelled for Soul. He had successfully kept his cool and kept the attention off of her the entire—

"This last question is for your lovely meister, and is actually just a personal question of mine." Maka gulped. "Miss Albarn, as an experienced three-star meister, you must have plenty of experience with all different kinds of weapons. Do any of them give you trouble out in the field? Surely insubordination must be a problem for you in high-stress situations."

Soul straightened in his chair at the dig, his teeth flickering in the light as he snarled. Maka put a hand on his knee from her seat and took a deep breath. Mark watched the exchange with interest. "First off, I've actually only had one weapon since I was… oh, wow, since I was eleven?" She looked at Soul, who looked up at the ceiling in thought.

"I was almost thirteen, I think, so…yeah, you were about eleven. Maybe twelve, I don't really remember the exact date." He whistled lowly. "Wow, Maka. I'm sorry for you." He chuckled and she swatted him.

She couldn't hide the laughter in her voice. "Yeah, so I've been with Soul for just over ten years now. And as for insubordination…when we were teenagers he was a pain in the ass, yeah, but he's actually been the best weapon I could ask for, given my childhood and upbringing. He balances me, in both my personal life and my career as a meister." Soul sobered next to her, but she shook her head with a smile to ward off his gaze. She meant it, truthfully; Soul was good for her, it just took her a long time to realize it.

Mark stared at them for a good ten seconds. "You two have an impressive resonance. Is it hard to adjust to his replacements when he's at Lord Death's beck and call?"

It was Maka's turn to bristle at Mark's words. He was being personal now, attacking their partnership. She would not stand for that. She thought about responding with a double meaning like Soul had, but she didn't have enough faith in her ability without making a fool of herself, so she stayed true to her own style: blunt and honest.

"I don't use other weapons when Soul is away. I teach classes here instead, giving some of the other teachers chances to go on missions. And I'm more at Death's beck and call, as you put it, more than Soul, as I'm part of his elite team. He actually has his own preferred weapons over the Deathscythes anyway, so I get Soul a lot more than past Deathscythe trainers did with their Deathscythes. Besides, no weapon could replace Soul."

Soul put his arm around Maka's shoulders. "A meister with values. They're surprisingly rare," Soul quipped, and Mark's pencil snapped. Maka raised an eyebrow.

Gwen's hand raised again. Mark exhaled. "Well, you two, that's all we have time for today. I appreciate your time and answers." His voice was tight, and as soon as the camera's humming clicked off he stood up forcefully, pushing his chair back to the wall. Maka and Soul were standing in an instant at his abrupt movement, hands joined in preparation for an attack.

"Does your Deathscythe have a problem?" Mark said, his voice raised in anger. He pointed the broken pencil at Soul, who looked down at it for half a second before he poked the end of it with his finger, tipped with a small red and black blade.

Soul scoffed at the accusation. "Of course I do. You undermined my meister in a live interview on a ridiculous basis. A minority? Are you fucking kidding me? She's the top meister at the DWMA and you know it! You're just another media junkie looking for a story, just like I told you." He was talking to Maka at that point, and turned back to Mark. "And I warned you before we even started, if you treat us like a story then we won't get along."

"Ha! What are you gonna do, Deathscythe? You said it yourself, Demon Scythes aren't much. You can't even wield yourself."

A curved red and black sickle was pointed into Mark's nose in an instant, the blade curving out of Soul's shoulder. Maka just stood back and crossed her arms, sharing a look with Gwen, like _"Boys,"_ and chuckling under her breath.

Mark heard her and started talking to her, carefully avoiding disturbing the blade in his face. "And you! Can't you control this damned thing! That's your job, to—"

"Wield him and engage in a symbiotic partnership that ultimately allows us to hunt and kill Kishin." She raised an eyebrow at the blade pointed toward Mark. "And sharpen him occasionally, if he gets dull." She looked back at Mark, who was now pale. "I expect that idea of Soul being a thing is what caused you to drop your meister career and become a low-wit reporter."

Mark looked startled. "What, you think she wouldn't notice?" Soul asked, laughing. "She's the smartest meister of our generation. Besides, you said _resonance_ earlier. Even I caught that, and not just anybody knows what that is. But I do know that you definitely got dumped by your weapon, because that mindset is honestly disrespectful."

"Disrespectful?" Mark shrieked, seeming to have finally reached his breaking point. "You act like you have feelings! You are a _tool_, used by the real warriors. My weapon, she always complained about how my grip was too tight or I used her carelessly. She couldn't feel it, so how did she even know what I was doing? And yes, she left because I—"

Maka had walked up to him and decked him, straight across the face. "Don't _ever_ talk about weapons that way again, do you understand? Because trust me, Soul could describe to me in perfect detail what it would feel like to slice through your ribcage." She turned and stomped toward the door, fed up with this asshole's ideology. "Let's go, Soul."

With a quiet _shink_, Soul's blade retracted and returned to his arm. He laughed as he stepped over the groaning body of the reporter, hands in his pockets. Maka heard him bend down and whisper something in his ear before joining her in the hallway.

"That prick," Maka fumed. She looked back at Soul. "What did you say to him when we left?"

Soul chuckled lightly and leaned down. "I told him that _my_ insubordination wasn't the one he had to worry about." He smiled cheekily at her, and Maka laughed at him. After all, he wasn't wrong.


End file.
